Poetry

Haiku 26

Photo: terimakasi. CC0/Public Domain
Photo: terimakasih0. CC0/Public Domain

Drops on bus window
why do some tarry, others
plunge headlong to ground?

Nearsighted, sensing
rain through library window–
a shiver in air.

Will you stop to count
how many short messages
written on your clothes?

After twenty years
I’m unfriended, for getting
David Bowie wrong.

Purple air mattress
outside Portland; too tired
to switch off the lights.

Three thin monks, southbound
pass a street hawker sporting
that same shade of orange.

Old man shakes his head
but does not move over,
his thumbnails, talons.

On her knees, she sings
at the church door, 10 pm;
is He still at home?

Heat on my left foot
toes crimped against the dresser,
enough for tonight.

“Live in the moment!”
…well, except for that clogged drain
back in my shower.

The madwoman!
I shrink from her yells; will she
dive out her window?

“Fifty Shades of Grey”
scans well enough for haiku…
some lousy porn, though.

My accomplishments
on the scale of one soup bowl,
don’t amount to much.